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The countryside makes me cuss.

30.7.06

Just returned from spending the night somewhere near Bobcaygeon. It wasn't a complete bust because once I got the following off my chest I was able to get some work done and we later spent a little time with some friends playing "murder!" which was, in fact, a lot of fun. It's good to be back though.

From last night:

I am in the country for the night. In an attempt to relax, to focus, to enjoy the scenery and write.

What a motherfucking joke.

Oh, the charms of the country. Nothing relaxes me more than the tickling of a fly crawling across my toes. The sound of the cricket in our room, somewhere in our room, is like an incredibly grating lullaby. Yes, cricket, hello. I heard you the 453rd time.

Shut the fuck up.

The soft breeze blows as the sun sets behind the dilapidated shed to the…North? South? East? West? I don’t even know where the fuck I am! Sorry. The soft breeze blows and the sun sets behind the dilapidated shed…over there.

That would be a relaxing sight were it not for the fact that the mildew smell of our motel room, sorry, the cricket’s motel room, has followed me outside. Did it attach itself to my clothing while I was in there for 10 minutes or is it so powerful that you can actually smell it through the bricks? My bet is on the latter. The mildew smell is so strong it feels like we are staying INSIDE a second hand book. Not a bookstore. An actual 200-year-old, mildew laden book. The bed is on page 34. The bathroom is also on page 34. You do the math.

Hey look, a horse! No, that’s a cow. Stupid cow looks like a horse. What the fuck is that about?

I will say this; the ice cream here is really good. But we have fucking ice cream in the city so who the fuck cares?

In other news:

I'd like to suggest Bruce Weber's article from the July 30th New York Times, discussing A-Rod's recent troubles. An excerpt:"Through it all, the lack of sympathy has been remarkable. People aren’t exactly angry at the guy, but they seem to feel his troubles serve him right — certainly not the general reaction to those in the throes of a breakdown."

I thought you might be over-reacting just a bit, but I watch a lot of old t.v. shows and on "The Rifleman" a horde (flock? herd?) of grasshoppers stopped a train on the tracks. There were so many of them covering the track that the train couldn't get any traction. Inside the train: condemned prisoner and gang out to free him, and the stars of our show.

Well, anyway, just wanted to say that it's a good thing we're marginally brighter than your average cricket and why has there never be a sci-fi movie about giant ones?